A Thief's Tale
by undertherug
Summary: An elven thief runs north to escape Imperial law, but quickly finds himself swept up into the torrent of events occurring in Skyrim.


PROLOGUE

Lelothyn fastened the straps on his boots, fumbling with chilled fingers. His breath was visible in the northern air, and a small fire crackled beside him, cooking the skinned rabbit he had caught the night before.

The aroma of it made his mouth water; his belly was empty. Too many days spent running and hiding from Imperial guards made it difficult for him to get any food or rest.

Skyrim though, was the perfect place for him to be. While the Imperials were there en masse, they were too busy taking spears to their guts as they tried to tame the Stormcloak Rebellion. There wouldn't be any time to worry about such petty criminals as him.

The elf deftly removed the cooked rabbit from the fire and from its spike, and began to cut at it with his hunting knife. After each slice, he would take a bite of the tender meat. It was still uncooked in its center, but it tasted like a king's dinner to Lelothyn. Once he had finished what little there was of the animal, Lelothyn sheathed his dagger and went to work gathering his things.

Like any proper thief, he traveled light; his oak bow, crafted by an armorer in the Imperial City, was propped against a nearby log, next to a quiver of iron arrows and a small bag of basic survival equipment. He gathered up his things and a separate bag of gems he had stolen out of a trade caravan a few days before, and poured water onto the dwindling flames. Though he felt that he'd be safe from the Imperials patrolling the road, he couldn't risk being tracked by local bandits or Nordic barbarians, and smoke from a fresh fire would be a dead giveaway.

Certain that he had gathered up everything he needed, Lelothyn began up the mountainside, following a trail most likely beaten by the untamed wildlife. Skyrim was famed for it's thriving natural landscape. Sabercats roamed the hills freely, hunting down man and beast alike, while mighty brown bears held dominion over the mountains and their caves. Bears, which could kill a weary travel with ease. Lelothyn nervously eyed the woods around him, suddenly suspicious of the possibility.

There was little to see though; the woods were thick and heavy with numerous trees and brush. Yet, a glint of light caught his eye, just at the crest of the hill he was climbing. Amidst all of the dark greens and browns, he saw a tall man dressed in furs and leathers. Another glint of light revealed that his sword was unsheathed. The blade extended as long as his own arm, and was broad, a favorite weapon of Nord warriors.

After a moment's hesitation, Lelothyn ducked behind a nearby tree, without making a noise. Moving slowly, he continued to advance up the mountainside, in between trees and large boulder formations.

The man in furs didn't move from where he was, and was coming more into focus. He had a strong jaw and thick blonde hair, clearly a local Nord.

Lelothyn remembered suddenly how the innkeeper in Bruma had reported his presence to the city's guards. He had paid the Argonian bitch to keep her mouth shut, and she still gave him away. This went to show that you couldn't trust strangers to go against the law. Lelothyn had to remind himself, however, that he wasn't a known criminal in Skyrim.

He was just ten yards from the man now, remaining completely silent. A bird chirped from across the trail, and Lelothyn could suddenly make out the sound of laughter and talk over the hill. The smell of warm food wafted upwards, and Lelothyn decided that he might take the risk.

"Hail, Nord!" His voice was friendly and crisp in the morning air.

Without warning, an arrow flew threw the air and struck Lelothyn in his shoulder, sending a sharp pain throughout his entire right arm.

He instinctively reached for his blade with his injured arm, but the pain paralyzed him and he stumbled into the mud. The wet dirt and grass molded around his face and went into his nostrils and eyes.

Dazed and confused, Lelothyn managed to turn himself over in the mud and saw the Nord locked in combat with a leather-clad swordsman. The soldier's leather had the Imperial Legion's sigil engraved in it, implying a terrifying talent with weaponry. It was only a few moments though before the Nord overpowered him, slashing and stabbing and yelling. Suddenly, his sword found itself in the gut of the Imperial.

Lelothyn watched as the man slid from the blade and landed on the ground, blood pooling from his wound. Get away... I have to get away from here. A strong rush of adrenaline allowed for Lelothyn to push himself to his feet, but he stumbled and landed against a tree. All around him were the sounds of shouting and clamoring steel.

Ahead of him was a break in the fighting, and a small rocky outcropping. Lelothyn began shuffling his way to the rocks, slowed by the mud and the arrow in his side.

The fighting quickly began to close around Lelothyn; arrows flew over his head as more Imperial soldiers came into view. At the same time, large numbers of Nord warriors, clad in wolfskins and wielding heavy two-handed weapons, were bounding out of deeper parts of the woods, shouting and swinging away. Almost there... Just a little bit further...

Lelothyn fell again to the ground, and his thin fingers dug into the mud, dragging him forward. Then he was grasping at the rocks, pulling himself up to the outcropping. He managed to peek his head over and look down below; it was a long fall, maybe thirty or forty feet. There was no way he would be able to fall that height without worsening his condition.

Behind him, he heard a blood curdling scream as another Imperial was cut down. Damn them all. Lelothyn pulled himself forward another few inches, and prepared to shift his weight over the cliff. Just as he began to roll himself over the side, a strong hand grabbed him by the back of his short cloak, and threw him away from the ledge.

An Imperial legionnaire, clad in heavy steel armor, towered over him, sword in hand. His face was covered by the customary helm, except for two slits for his eyes, which were dark now as they glared down at Lelothyn.

Lelothyn opened his mouth to yield to the soldier, but his words were caught in his throat, and blood bubbled from his lips. The soldier's heavy wooden shield lifted up into the air, and slammed forcefully into Lelothyn's face. All went black.

**So, I'm incredibly new to writing of any sort. I figured that a fanfic would be a good start (as the story can be derived more from previously determined material than my own lackluster creativity). I don't have any particular plan in mind for this story, and I'm mostly coming up with this as I go. Any input would be DEEPLY appreciated. Hope you enjoy! :B**


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